Courage
by Moonglow gal
Summary: As different as our favorite characters are, it goes without saying that they show their courage in different ways. But what are these different ways, and when combined, what great deeds will they accomplish?
1. To Fight

**Courage**

Chapter One: To Fight 

_Hola! This is the first chapter of my short little Courage fic. In addition to its only being six chapters long, the chapters themselves are also pretty short. I mean…you don't exactly need to gabble for ten pages about how brave a certain character is. In fact, you could easily do it in a paragraph or two. But…being myself, I couldn't resist dragging it out for five pages._

_The focus of this chapter is our own beloved Shippo._

_And please, I already realize that doing this on top of all the other fics that I can't stay on top of anyways is literary suicide, but I can't help it! I really like this idea, and if I let it fester for too long, it'll degenerate from crap to the fungus that forms on crap._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Shippo, or Sango, Miroku, or Inuyasha, or Kagome, or Kirara, or Naraku, or anyone else that has anything to do with Inuyasha (excluding my OCs from other stories, of course)._

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'Helpless!' Shippo thought furiously. 'Just like every other time, I'm too weak, too young, too inexperienced! Always so _helpless_!' He bit his lip and watched his friends battle, not noticing that the precursors of his fangs were digging painfully into his own soft flesh. His cheerful shock of orange hair looked oddly out of place on the frustrated young fox demon.

He glanced across the battlefield as a cloud of poison dust erupted, momentarily untangling the knot of demon slayer and golems that had just been at its heart. Sango, the slayer, fought on, safe behind her filter mask, expertly bludgeoning the golems with her boomerang bone and trapping them with a weighted chain. The golems, white baboon pelts atop masses of sharp, writhing roots, sent tentacle after tentacle towards her heart, each of which was sliced away, twisted off, or expertly evaded. Even from across the clearing, he could see her sharp magenta eyes swiveling between her opponents, could see the familiar flick she used to remove her long black ponytail from her field of vision.

Behind her stood Miroku, a monk, armed with nothing but a staff, yet effectively holding his own against another golem. With the ease of long practice, he blocked one root's path with the slender pole, slicing off the tip of another with the sharp ornament adorning the top of the staff. The butt of the shaft swung up to club away the root intent on gouging out his violet eyes as he knocked away another with his arm. His short black ponytail and loose bangs swished across his face, veiling and unveiling his unusually serious expression, mirroring the swinging of his black and purple monks' robes.

A blur of red and silver flew across Shippo's field of vision. When the blur settled, he identified it as Inuyasha, a half-demon clad in bright crimson. He swung an enormous sword with little apparent effort. However, the curious hardness in his golden eyes told Shippo that he _was_ having trouble. Blood stained his long silver hair, blood that poured from the gaping wound in his right shoulder. Still, he managed to hold off the two golems attacking him, slicing roots and baboon pelts as quickly as he was able. His claws and fangs glinted with each snarl andvicious swing.

As hard as the three were fighting, Shippo wasn't as worried for them as he was for the fifth member of their "family": Kagome, his surrogate mother. He found her across the field from Inuyasha, coolly shooting arrow after purifying arrow. The golem she focused on so intently dodged and weaved, trying to avoid each too-close-for-comfort missile. Occasionally, it managed to shoot out a piercing tentacle, only to have it pinned and blown up by Kagome's arrow. She seemed to have the upper hand.

But she didn't. Shippo sniffed the air anxiously and closely watched her sharp gray eyes. Even as they swiftly followed the golem's movements, they showed signs of exhaustion. She had been tapping into her purifying abilities far too much lately, so her power reserves were low. And now, those reserves were quickly running out. He knew what would happen when her power reservoir was empty. The arrows would lose the pink glow that characterized her power, and she would collapse, unable to move until she had gotten adequate rest. If that battle didn't stop soon…

He scanned the field again. A whirl of black cloth and pink armor: Sango was still fighting. A distant spot of purple and black: Miroku hadn't finished off his golem yet. The ever-in-motion spot of red and silver: Inuyasha's opponents were still alive. A stationary green and white uniform, spewing shafts of pink: Kagome's battle went on.

'And here I am, absolutely helpless!' he thought again. He stroked the fur of the mewing firecat beside him. "Too bad those venom wasps got you, Kirara," he murmured, eyeing the welt on her side where the Saimyosho, the wasps that served the same master as the golems, had finally managed to land a venomous sting. "You'd finish off Sango's golems in a second, wouldn't you? At least you would be of use if you were healthy. Me…" he glared at Kagome's golem. "I'm useless even when I'm in tip-top shape."

Weakly, she nuzzled his side and chirped. He smiled weakly at her. "Thanks, Kirara."

A breathless, "Shit!" brought his attention back to the battlefield. After searching for a moment, he saw Kagome had dropped down to one knee, now firing from the ground. She gasped, her wavy black hair soaked with sweat, and continued to hold off the golem. But now, she was at a decided disadvantage. On her feet, she could twist and turn to aim better and follow the golem. But now, her range of movement was limited, and her aim was compromised where she had to twist around to fire. The golem took advantage of this and danced off to her right, where she could only draw the bowstring halfway back, straining her muscles each time.

"Kagome!" he whispered. "Oh no, oh no, please be okay, Kagome!"

Inuyasha, it seemed, had noticed the same thing, for he dashed toward her, shouting her name. But as he ran, a tentacle stabbed through the back of his already-wounded shoulder, emerging on the other side. He cried out in pain and surprise and turned to hack at the root. Kagome continued to fire as she shouted, "Inuyasha, just take care of yourself! I'll be fine!"

Although he didn't acknowledge her words, he seemed to obey her, following the golems back to the other side of the field.

Shippo, however, didn't agree with Inuyasha's course of action, and continued to keep watch over her. Occasionally, his eyes would be drawn to the cloud of Saimyosho that hovered over the battle. Each was round and fat, a sickly shade of yellow, with red eyes that somehow made the viewer nauseous, and a long, barbed sting. It was because of the contents of those stings that had this battle had lasted so long. Not only had it harbored Kirara useless, but it also made it too dangerous for Miroku to use his most powerful weapon: the Wind Tunnel.

Kagome's sudden intake of breath returned Shippo's attention to her. "Kagome!" She had reached the limits of her strength. Slowly, almost gracefully, she crumpled onto her side, dropping the bow and arrow, the contents of her quiver scattering. Her gray eyes closed in her equally gray face, as a defeated breath escaped her.

The little fox kit heard an echo of his desperate cry.

"_KAGOME!_" Inuyasha, attempted to launch himself across the field toward her, but found himself hemmed in by a maze of tentacles. "_Get out of my way, you scum!_" His already-wild sword blows took on an almost insane air, but did little against the ever-regenerating golems. In his wild, panicked rage, the half-demon appeared to have forgotten the golems' weak point, the chest, instead focusing entirely on what lay between him and Kagome, although it did him no good. He was stuck, and Kagome was being fast approached by the golem she had such a short time ago been holding off magnificently.

"_Wind Tunnel!_"

"Miroku, no!" Shippo stiffened, staring in horror at Miroku, who had decided to unleash his deadliest weapon. A string of prayer beads dangled from his left hand, which was bracing his right arm. He held his right palm toward both his golem and Kagome's. In the center of his hand was a pitch black hole, which was steadily sucking in the struggling golems and, more importantly, the Saimyosho.

"Miroku, you fool!" Sango shrieked, tearing her mask from her face. "The venom—"

But Miroku already knew what she was going to say, and shouted in return, "A dose like this won't kill me, but that golem will certainly kill Kagome!"

The demon slayer was prevented from answering when one of her opponents drove a tentacle straight through her calf. Even as she crumpled, grunting in pain, her boomerang bone swung out, snapping the tentacle in two.

Although he didn't have Sango to argue against him, Miroku suddenly closed his right hand into a fist, wrapping the beads around his right forearm again. His breathing had gotten heavier, and he was sweating profusely. "That's my limit," he gasped weakly, cradling his hand to his chest and sinking to his knees. "I can take in no more venom without seriously endangering my life."

After a moment of scrutiny, Shippo turned away from the monk. As heroic and stubborn the monk could be, he _did_ know what he was and wasn't capable of. If he said he would live, it was likely that he would. But something new had captured the little kitsune's interest. Sango's wound had crippled her, and she could only fight one golem. The second one seemed to realize that, for it abandoned the battle.

Shippo's world froze. 'It's heading for Kagome!' he thought wildly. 'Kagome will be killed!' Already, the golem was aiming a tentacle at her heart.

His surroundings began to move again, rather faster than he remembered, until he realized that he was also in motion, sprinting toward his surrogate mother as quickly as his tiny legs could carry him. "F-Foxfire!" he shouted, flinging a handful of bright green fire at the threatening tentacle. To his shock, the tentacle, burned through, fell to the ground. He sighed in relief. "It worked…"

But not entirely. Two more tentacles shot out, one trying again for Kagome, the other zeroing in on Shippo. In a split second, he dug his hand into his pocket and drew out a small toy horse. He tossed it next to Kagome, where it swiftly transformed into a large, round straw pony, which scooped the girl up and set her on its back, galloping away to safety. The tentacle plunged uselessly into the ground.

But he still had its partner to worry about, which was quickly approaching him. Another split second found him tossing a handful of leaves into the air. "Doppelganger!" Each leaf transformed into a perfect replica of the fox demon. As each was punctured by a tentacle, it emitted a loud "pop" and transformed back into a leaf. The distraction had granted Shippo time to escape.

But he didn't. He dodged and weaved with his replicas, thinking resolutely, 'Miroku's completely used up for this battle, and Sango can't take on more than one of these things. Inuyasha is already dealing with two, so it's up to me to take care of this one!'

Just he finished his heroic thought, he felt his feet swept out from underneath him. "Oof!" He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He watched weakly as another tentacle plunged toward him. He raised a shaking hand and gasped, "Fox…fire…." Fortunately, the spell still worked, and the tentacle was once again burned.

"Shippo, look out!" He twisted his head when Sango called out to him, when the world suddenly turned upside-down.

He shrieked and began twisting wildly, fighting the vise-like grip on his ankle. His desperately clawing hands scrabbled at what felt like a particularly slimy, squishy root, and he screamed again. One small, barely clawed hand reached inside his vest and flung out a number of firecrackers, lit with his fox magic. "Fire Bombs!"

As they made contact with the golem, each firecracker exploded, sending smoke, showers of sparks, and resounding booms across the field. Shippo felt the tentacle wrapped around his ankle loosen, and he twisted, this time managing to free himself. Huffing and gasping for breath, he struggled away from the golem as quickly as he could. His ears noted a peculiar rush of wind and scattered debris coming from the golem before he stopped and turned to face it, once again ready to fight.

But there was nothing left _to_ fight. Inuyasha stood before him, panting slightly, his enormous sword resting on the ground. After a few tense moments, the half-demon turned and appraised the kitsune. "You know, runt," he said almost reluctantly, "you really can find a use for yourself once in a while, can't you?"

Shippo blinked up at him, momentarily at a loss for words. What had just happened?

Returning the Tetsusaiga to its sheath, the elder continued, "Thanks to you, Kagome's safe, and those things were distracted enough for me to finish them off in one blow. Hop on."

The change in subject caught him off guard, forcing Shippo to once again blink confusedly at his rescuer. Inuyasha seemed to notice, for he sighed impatiently and clarified, "We have to find Kagome, stupid. Come on, or I'll leave you behind!"

"B-but what about Sango and Miroku?"

"We'll be fine." Sango limped over, using her boomerang bone as a walking stick of sorts. A crude bandage of what looked like part of Miroku's robes was wrapped around her wound. The monk himself looked tired, but could at least walk on his own. "You two go on. And nice work, Shippo. That was extremely brave of you," she added with a proud smile.

Miroku wore a similar smile as he nodded and continued, "We probably owe Kagome's life to you."

He blushed proudly at the praise, then hopped onto Inuyasha's uninjured shoulder. "Let's go!"

The half-demon set off immediately, following the trail of Kagome's flowery scent. Shippo sniffed eagerly, itching to regale his adoptive mother with his heroic tale. Oh, the praise! Oh, the hugs! Oh, the extra treats!

As they sped onward, his escort grunted, "Hey, runt?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You did a pretty damn good job out there. I'm…" He hesitated. "I'm proud of you."

_(end)_

_-- -- --_

_So there you have it! Shippo has the courage to fight and risk his life for his loved ones, despite his size, age, and abilities (or rather, lack thereof)._

_I still haven't decided whether all six of these will be completely disconnected, or whether they will make only brief references to each other, or whether they will proceed just like any other story, each chapter building on the one before. I'll probably end up treating it like an actual story, simply because it's easier that way (although I have to figure out how I'll work in Inuyasha's and Kagome's chapters)_

_One thing I know is that I probably won't be using cliffies, because each chapter is still its own separate entity. I want them to be connected, but I don't want them to directly lead into each other. Yennoe?_

_Anyway, review, and let me know what you think of this (abysmally short) chapter! Thank you!_


	2. To Live

**Courage**

Chapter Two: To Live

_Welcome back to "Courage", or _Yuuki_ in Japanese! I hope I get a few more reviews this time around (**tears**), but we _all_ know that we write simply for the pleasure of writing, right?_

…

_Right?_

_Yeah, so we all rejoice when we see that we've _finally_ broken sixty reviews on a twelve-chapter fic…except for those of you geniuses who're disappointed when you get less than thirty reviews per chapter…f—ing talented people._

_No, I am absolutely not bitter! (**shreds printout of Favorite Authors and flushes scraps down toilet**) No, not bitter at f—ing all!_

_Anyway, enough with the personal tragedies…let's liven things up and watch my attempt at writing Sango's segment of the Courage fic!_

_Disclaimer: Well…I own tapes of a few of my favorite episodes…and of the whole first movie and part of the second movie (_I RAN OUT OF F—ING SPACE ON THE F—ING TAPE! WHY, CRUEL WORLD, WHY!_). I own two adorable little plastic models of Kagome and Inuyasha (THANKS KATHYHEAD!), two keychains, some manga and some pictures. But Inuyasha, as well as his friends, is not my property. Ack, more personal tragedy!_

_-- -- --_

Sango grimaced and leaned on her broken Hiraikotsu as Inuyasha and Shippo bounded away. Miroku must have noticed her pain, for he grasped her elbow and steadied her as well as he could. She chuckled and gently pulled away from him. "Miroku, just because my leg was impaled doesn't mean I've lost the ability to remain upright."

As soon as she said it, the demon slayer found herself toppling toward him, unable to restore her balance with her bad leg.

"No, it comes and it goes, doesn't it?" the monk laughed, catching her.

"It's like hunting a bird," she agreed, feeling her cheeks redden slightly at the heat radiating off of his robes. "Just when I think I've captured it, it flies away."

His chest vibrated as he chuckled, sending an agreeable sort of shiver through her, as if her organs were trembling. "Well, then, I say we both sit and rest before we go catch that bird again. How about it?"

Sango hadn't had time to answer before his knees bent and he lowered the two of them to the ground. "What if I think I'm ready to have another shot at the bird?" she asked stubbornly, adjusting her grip on the Hiraikotsu.

"You're only human, Sango. You aren't fragile, but you aren't invincible either," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

For some reason, she flinched at those words. "Only human? Are humans really so weak then?"

But she didn't want to hear Miroku answer, and pushed herself upright and staggered over to the mewing Kirara. "Kirara, how are you doing?"

The demon cat opened her red eyes and licked Sango's outstretched hand, purring tiredly.

"I'm glad to hear it." The demon slayer knelt beside her lifelong partner and gently scooped her up. "Here, that's a good girl. Oh, sorry, did that hurt?" She moved her hand away from the sting welt and rubbed Kirara's ears. "Yes, _very_ good girl," she murmured. "So strong, fighting the poison all that time. We'll get you some antidote the minute one of us is able to find the right herbs, okay?"

Sango could have sworn that Kirara half-rolled her fiery orbs before snuggling further into the crook of her master's arm. She grinned down at the cat, then looked up, studying the remnants of Naraku's golems. "We are all," she whispered, "so _helpless_. So dependent. Shippo could not have won that battle on his own, and Inuyasha needed help to defeat the last golems. Kagome's strength is always so limited. I couldn't even dispatch one golem on my own. Miroku is almost useless without his Wind Tunnel, and when he _does_ use it, he ends up making himself useless again."

She closed her eyes and sighed. 'I'm being unfair. They were all so _brave_. Despite their weaknesses, they kept going, fighting, risking themselves to help each other. But I…' A small breeze blew her bangs into her face, which she brusquely shook away. 'I'm not that strong.'

"Sango?" Behind her, Miroku pushed himself to his feet. The rings on his monks' staff jingled as he staggered his way toward her, his body still fighting the Saimyosho's poison. "Sango, are you all right?"

"How can you be so strong?" Some odd feeling was stirring inside her, a strange desperation for something she couldn't name. "You, too, are only human, yet you're still so…" She couldn't find the words. She swung around to face him, to try to communicate her question through her eyes. It wasn't, she realized, a question about him. It was a question about herself.

'Kohaku,' she abruptly thought. Her little brother. He had been possessed by Naraku, had killed her father and other demon slayers from their village. He had almost killed her, then had been killed himself. She still remembered that cold, empty gaze of his as his chain sickle tore through the air and sliced away the strap that had held her filter mask in place. He had only missed her throat by lucky chance. She could see those eyes as clearly as the monk standing before her. And now, under Naraku's control once more, now as an undead servant, Kohaku continued to be possessed and thus to threaten her and her friends.

"My brother is just Naraku's puppet. He's as weak as the rest of us. We are all…just so _helpless_! I don't understand it!"

"Sango, you aren't helpless, you know that," Miroku soothed, unconsciously clacking the ring that kept the purple gauntlet on his right hand in place against his staff. "You're the strongest woman I have ever met."

"And I'm only human! We're so weak, so fragile!" Defiantly, she stamped her wounded leg against the ground and grunted when a lance of pain shot all the way up into her hip. "What's the point, Miroku?"

But he seemed at a loss for words. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed pensively, his expression bewildered and taken aback. Finally, he softly urged, "Sango, you have to be careful with that leg…"

"But what's the _point_?" Even more defiantly, she slammed her heel into the dirt and ground the grass below her heel into the earth. The pain this time left her gasping, and a warm sensation around the wound told her that it had started bleeding again. "We're so helpless anyway, so what's the _point_?"

With a distressed mew, Kirara nuzzled Sango's arm. Miroku lurched forward then caught himself, pressing a hand to his temple as if he felt dizzy. "Sango," he panted, "please, calm down. You've reopened that wound. Please, just sit down."

But the peculiar urgency had passed. Suddenly, she felt foolish, and limped forward to grab her friend's shoulders. "Miroku, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Here, come on, you need to sit." Although her leg was throbbing again, she managed to guide him to the ground and drop down beside him. "Here, are you feeling all right?" She placed Kirara in her lap and, for lack of any other material, pulled out the red strip of cloth that held her ponytail in place and wiped his suddenly shining forehead. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm acting strange, aren't I?"

"No, Sango, you're right," Miroku mumbled, catching her hand and gripping it tight. "Forgive me…it's just the poison…it feels like I'm on one of merry-go-rounds Kagome described to us. I can't…it's this blasted venom…" With that, he slumped to the side, his cheekbone colliding painfully with her shoulder.

"_Miroku?_" Sango moved Kirara to the ground, meeting only mild opposition from the feline, and shifted as quickly as she was able until she could cradle Miroku's head in her lap. His staff clattered noisily to the ground beside its owner. "Miroku, are you all right?"

His words were soft and labored but still reassuring as he breathed, "Don't worry, Sango. Those wasps pack quite a bit of poison in those tiny disgusting bodies of theirs, don't they? I just need rest. Don't worry…I'll be fine."

After forcing out those few sentences, he sighed and relaxed.

"Miroku?" For a moment, Sango's heart froze, but his shallow but steady breaths assured her that he was merely asleep. "Do you understand now, Miroku?" She picked up the cloth she had dropped when the monk had collapsed and mopped his face again. "We are _all_ weak. No matter how strong we are, we're still human. Still only human. So really, is there a point?"

When she asked that question this time, she no longer felt frenzied, simply resigned and exhausted. "Do we have a reason to live at all, Kirara?" she questioned.

The demon cat, though still affronted, mewed reassuringly. But Sango found little comfort in her partner and looked back down at Miroku's pale face. "How can anyone stand to live when they know how utterly weak and dependent they are? Don't they feel useless? Don't they feel like nothing but a burden?"

Suddenly, she became vividly aware of the sword sheathed at her side. It, like her, was weak unless taken in hand by another. But it could do such terrible things when wielded. Without thinking, she drew it and held it up before her, contemplating.

'This is a good sword. Sharp, strong blade. Well-crafted hilt, solid cross guard. Light enough to be controlled easily, but heavy enough to cause damage. This sword is _useful_. I forged it myself, after dozens and dozens of sticks of metal, good only for scrap metal. They were useless, and they were _gotten rid of_. Should all useless things be gotten rid of?

'Should _I_ be?'

The demon slayer ran a finger lightly against the edge of the blade and winced as small beads of blood welled up out of the fine cut on her fingertip. She held it to her mouth and, for some odd reason, glanced back down on Miroku.

His sleeping but tense face struck a strange chord inside her. "Are you really considering killing yourself?" it seemed to ask.

"No…no, why the hell am I thinking that?"

She had suffered and still suffered daily knowing that her own little brother didn't remember even who he himself was. She still grieved for her father and the rest of the demon-slaying villagers who had been killed by Kohaku or massacred by demons under Naraku's command. She felt every day that Naraku's emotional control over her dragged all of her friends down. But she still fought. She fought back, knowing that she was only human.

'It doesn't matter how weak we are…because together, we're the strongest we can be. It doesn't matter how useless we are because we always fight. There may not _be_ a point, but is there a point in looking for one? We have each other, we have our lives, and we have our futures. What is there beyond those?'

She smiled down at Miroku and re-sheathed her sword. 'Hope. There's always hope that we'll find people to love and to be loved by enough to feel that _they_ are your "point", your hope. _They_ are what you fight for, the reason why you smile, cry…and live.'

Her hand pushed the monk's bangs out of his closed eyes as Sango chuckled and thought, 'You would say exactly that, wouldn't you?' She kissed her finger and touched it to his lips.

'Thank you for being _my_ hope.'

_(end)_

-- -- --

_Wow, that was an even shorter chapter. But once again, it's hard to prattle on about a certain type of courage for eleven pages._

_Anyway, I hope I did well in showing Sango's brand of courage: the courage to live. I would be shocked if she hadn't had suicidal thoughts at least once (tells you how badly I'm obsessed with Inuyasha now…I'm starting to think of them as real people). But she still survives her many personal tragedies with energy aplenty for pummeling Miroku. If I could finish all of my homework with that kind of energy left over, I'd be Superwoman or something. That'd be so cool!_

_And I apologize for the fact that this chapter is so devoid of humor. I didn't have much of a plan for this chapter. All I knew was that I wanted Sango to contemplate human weakness and to consider killing herself. I originally had set this as one of those classic "depressed about Kohaku" to "pissed at Miroku's antics" situations, but…I dunno, it didn't seem quite right. So this chapter just kind of dribbled out of my head, but I think I did decently._

_Well, let's see if my opinion was on track. Review and let me know what you thought!_

_P.S. I promise at least a_ little _humor next chapter. How can there not be, when our favorite clown of a monk is the main focus?_


	3. To Smile

**Courage**

Chapter Three: To Smile

_Hooray, I have returned to celebrate Miroku's unique brand of courage! Well, what about him _isn't_ unique, yennoe? Anyway, I don't think I have much to say other than reiterating the fact that Miroku in the real world is supposed to be the future Buddha…heehee, that's so bad of Takahashi-san, morphing a bodhisattva into a kleptomaniac pervert._

_Erm, the Japanese word of the day is _egao_, which means "smile" (and as a bonus, I believe _warau_ means "to smile or laugh"). Other than that, there isn't much more to say, so onward ho!_

_Disclaimer: Okay, class, read it with me! "N"…"O"…spells "no"! Yay! (**sickeningly happy squeal**) Wasn't that _fun?

_-- -- --_

The first thing he became aware of was a voice humming in a soft, aimless way. It wasn't particularly nightingale-esque, graceful, or strong. No, on the contrary, it was rather plain, breathy, and unsure. However, to his muddled ears, it sang of home and warmth.

Muddled ears? Goodness, why on earth would they be muddled?

This question made him aware of a dull ache throughout his body that soundlessly buzzed and obstructed the tuneless melody. No, that wouldn't do. He'd have to fix that, but how?

Well, perhaps he should begin with the odd darkness surrounding him. Less disjointed thoughts danced around the corners of his awareness, whispering that in his right mind, he had an easy way to fix that little flaw. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember that easy way, and his right mind wasn't returning to him very quickly. Instead, he fumbled his way through his disorderly thoughts. 'Dark…why yes, it is _quite_ dark here. And why _is_ it dark? Because…ah, because there's no light! And why is there no light?'

It finally clicked as his right mind began to trickle back into place. 'Ah, my eyes must be closed!' Having arrived at that conclusion, he was quite unprepared when his eyelids refused to open for him. Was something covering them, perhaps weighing them down so he would remain in the dark and be forced to strain to hear that soothing melody through the ache that was rapidly growing into pain? No, surely not.

"Ah…" Oh, was that his voice? Say, his mouth worked, why on earth didn't his eyes? More answers began to fall into place as the mind-numbing darkness began to slowly retreat. 'Oh, maybe I'm just tired.'

That, he found, was true, for an instant later, he felt his eyes slowly blink open, almost of their own accord. True, his eyelids still felt heavy, but being able to see the dimly lit ceiling of a dimly lit hut somehow brought his world into sharper focus. The humming stopped abruptly, to his disappointment. "Miroku? Oh, good, you're awake."

A familiar looking face leaned over him, a low-tied ponytail flipping behind a shoulder as the face beamed down on him. "Are you feeling better now?"

"…Sango…" And with that word, the world suddenly made sense again. He winced as the ache turned into a full-out throb that pounded throughout his body like a second heartbeat. "Where are we?"

"We're in a nearby village. Inuyasha and Shippo picked up Kagome, and he carried both of you all the way to village. He tried to get me to lean on him, but I figured from the way he was sweating that I shouldn't put any more weight on him, especially with those wounds of his."

"So…everyone's here?" It was such a strain to talk, he thought in annoyance.

"Yeah. Inuyasha and Shippo are hovering over Kagome, and Inuyasha has already terrorized three villagers for making too much noise outside of the priestess's hut. She didn't have much room to spare, so we're in the hut where she stores medicines and such." Sango nodded at the wall just beyond his feet. He directed his eyes at the wall and saw several racks of dried herbs.

"So are they're all okay?"

She smiled at him again and picked up something on the floor right next to his cheek. "Yes, we're all fine. I was getting worried about you. You collapsed out there, you know, Miroku." The something turned out to be a old but clean rag, which she used to gently mop off his forehead. "It looks like you still haven't gotten over all of that miasma."

"Yes, that'd explain the throbbing, wouldn't it?" A peculiar sensation stretched across his face; it took him a few seconds to remember what it felt like to grin.

Sango, in contrast, lost her smile at his words and instead rested a light hand on his right arm. "It really still hurts?"

"I've had worse," he murmured, shifting his arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'll be fine. You know very well how I'm going to die."

Her face only grew more serious. "Miroku, don't talk like that. We have time."

And with those three words she unleashed a torrent of familiar questions on his aching head. 'Time…how much time do we have? How long until my own hand sucks me into oblivion?' At this, he tightened his right hand into a fist that remained unseen inside his baggy black sleeve. 'How long before Naraku wins yet another victory against my family?'

The demon slayer kept talking, resettling herself into a cross-legged position on the floor beside him and absentmindedly tracing the bandage on her leg. "We're so close now. Naraku is getting really scared. Why else would he have sent six golems after us? It must have cost him so much effort to create and control them all, so why didn't he send his incarnates? Because he couldn't afford to lose. He couldn't afford the chance that they would desert or that we would kill them, because if we won, he would need even more power to fight us. We're getting stronger Miroku, and we have a fighting chance."

The only effect her words had was to increase the uneasy feelings bouncing around inside him. Did they truly have that chance? If they were getting stronger, it meant that Naraku was stronger as well. And always, always, the same question came back: How long? No matter where he was, one look at his gloved hand, one rattle of the beads around his wrist, one fleeting thought of how hot the gauntlet made his hand was enough to make him unsure.

Sucking demons into the Wind Tunnel: How long until I meet this same fate?

Quietly traveling on the open road: How long before all that remains of me is a crater and a few memories?

Talking with his friends on a peaceful evening: How long before I leave these peoplebehind?

Bathing in the hot springs: How long until my body vanishes into nothingness?

How long, how long, how long, it was always there. Everywhere, anywhere, every time, any time. When would he die? Would it be quick? Would he be afraid? Would it be painful? Would he have a son to carry his mission on? Would he and Sango have settled their very peculiar relationship?

Always, always, _always_…how long?

"I admit, I have doubts, but I believe in us all. Inuyasha is strong, Kagome is stubborn, Shippo is courageous, I'm skilled, and you're steadfast. We can make this work, Miroku."

He pulled himself out of his thoughts in time to ask with a note of amusement, "I'm steadfast? I, the flighty monk? Whatever do you mean by that?"

"You have hung on to your goal for your whole life, never wavering for a moment from your duty. No matter how many times you get yourself almost killed, you always come back." Sango's fist softly tapped her knee. "No amount of beating will get you to change your lecherous habits, and don't try protesting, because you know how hard I've tried to change them and how miserably I've failed."

Miroku had to grin at that. "But Sango, I was behaving so well before. How can you dismiss the possibility of my overcoming my bad habits when victory is just within sight?"

"Because I know that you'll look at that victory then think, 'No, no, the quest is infinitely more rewarding than the prize itself,' and with that excuse regress back into Miroku the pervert."

"Sango, you wound me. I thought you knew me well enough to realize that I would grab the prize first before regressing and selling it for a great deal more than it is worth."

Her face twisted into an amused grimace. "You're right, I should've mentioned that as well. But Miroku…" Her strong, slender fingers traced spirals on her kneecap. "Someday, I really hope that you _will_ take the prize…and treasure it. I hope you really can find the strength to leave that behind you. I believe that someday you can."

Now _this_ was very unusual for his normally shy Sango. "Why do you believe that?"

"Because Miroku, someday…someday soon, you won't need someone to carry on your bloodline. One day, we'll break your curse and you'll be free. When that day comes, I hope you can leave that past behind you. I hope you can be strong enough to change yourself. I know it sounds selfish," she added in a rush. "But Miroku, when I said you're steadfast, I meant it. Once we defeat Naraku…I think you would be afraid to change yourself. You've grown up one way and I want to believe that you'll be able to live another way once you're free."

He smiled reassuringly at her. "If you believe that, Sango, then I'm sure I can make it happen."

"I _do_ believe, so I _know_ that it will happen."

With a smile, he closed his eyes. "Maybe it will," he whispered.

'But it probably won't. Naraku probably won't go down in time. I will probably die, probably without a son to carry on this fight.'

Perhaps it would be better that way. Perhaps it would be better to end the suffering with himself. 'How long until then?' Yes, it _would _be better to never force his own son to live with this curse, this uncertainty. It would better to end the fight himself. So Naraku would win _this_ battle…but his friends would surely win the _real_ battle, would avenge him, avenge themselves, finally repay all the pain he had handed out to them all.

'How long?'

A bitter smile flickered across his face as Sango began to hum again. How long before this would be over?

A completely spontaneous thought flashed across his mind, filling him with mild self-disgust. How could he have forgotten?

He opened one eye just a slit and stifled a grin. Perfect. Her expressive magenta eyes were fixed on some distant point as her voice trilled like that of a baby bird. If he timed it carefully and kept hair-fine control…

His hand inched away from his side, moving only as quickly as he dared. There, now it was at the right angle to approach its target…

The humming stopped and Sango's eyebrows vanished under her bangs. Her face rapidly attempted to match the shade of her eyes as her jaw dropped.

He sighed happily as his still-aching arm brushed against her knee while his hand fondled a perfectly shaped bottom.

_"I hope you can be strong enough to change yourself."_

Her voice echoed in his ear, abruptly followed an ice-cold whisper, _"How lo—"_

"_You gods-be-damned pervert!_" Sango shrieked, halting all other thoughts with her furious war cry and equally furious backhand against his left cheek. "_Honestly_, whenever we have a civilized talk, you go and—agh, you'll never change, will you?"

He grinned shamelessly at her while gingerly rubbing his throbbing cheek. "There's still hope, Sango dearest."

The demon slayer scowled darkly at him and scooted out of arms' reach. "_Behave_, or else I'll leave right now and make Inuyasha babysit you instead. I don't think he'll enjoy being forced to leave Kagome anymore than you'll enjoy being watched by him. Now _rest_ so you can heal and I can thrash you properly."

Miroku obediently closed his eyes, knowing that his lecherous grin would flash at her of its own accord before fading back into a peaceful, smooth expression. Every grab ended in pain, but her flawlessly constructed body made it worth it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if, one day…if one day he really _could_ change…or if _she_ could change, if one day she or their relationship would change just enough to accept his touch? Wouldn't it be wonderful to live to see how his life could be transformed?

'How long?'

_(end)_

-- -- --

_Wow…these are so pathetically short. I mean, five pages? Oy, not good, not good._

_Speaking of not good, I don't know if I did so hot in showing that Miroku's specific type of courage is to be able to hide his own suffering behind a smile. I mean…I think I got the suffering across, but the smiling, the covering up…I really don't know if it's there. (**sigh**)_

_Anyway, I guess I'll see you again with Inuyasha's chapter: To Fly._


	4. To Fly

**Courage**

Chapter Four: To Fly

_And Inuyasha's chapter is up, up, up! It's so funny: when I was trying to think up a name for his type of courage and came up with "to fly", I immediately say him with these huge white wings like Eternal Sailor Moon's (if there are any SM fans reading this, you know what I mean). These big, pretty, feathery wings flapping madly to hold up a snarling half-demon dressed in all red and swinging around a big-ass sword, snarling out curse words at Koga for laughing at his big, pretty, masculine (**snort**) wings…_

_Geez, my mind works in really weird ways._

_Japanese Words of the Day: _kakeru-_ to fly and _tsubasa- _wings._

_Disclaimer: With all the disturbing things I put these characters through (particularly in BTBL), I don't think it would be a very good idea to grant me ownership of Inuyasha (although it would be SO much fun!)._

_-- -- --_

Silence. Save for Kagome's soft breathing and the distant hum of a busy village at work, the hut was filled with absolute silence.

Inuyasha kept his breathing as soft as he could manage, staring intently at Kagome's pale, sweaty face. _About time those idiots out there shut up_, he thought vindictively. _Fool woman needs to _rest. That obnoxious blacksmith, those two gossipy women, all three had spoken right outside of the priestess's hut in voices loud enough to wake the _dead_, let alone a stupid teenage girl.

"She needs to sleep," Inuyasha had told Sango self-righteously after she had given him a scolding look for shooing them off. And it was true! How else would the stupid wench, unselfish as she always was, get the rest that she needed to recover from using up all of that energy?

…well, the snarling and roaring and baring of fangs may have been a bit much…

_But humans need a good shock to their systems to get _anything_ to stick!_ Inuyasha excused himself mentally. _Not my fault they were stupid enough to gossip right outside of our hut._

Kagome suddenly whimpered softly, and all justification fled from his mind. Instead, he flew to her head, plopping himself down in a cross-legged position and leaning (but not anxiously!) over her. Although her eyes didn't open, the changes in her heartbeat and breathing rhythm signaled that she had finally woken up. "Inuyasha?" she questioned hoarsely.

Suddenly at a loss for what to do, Inuyasha lunged for the clean rag laying near her bed and dabbed at her forehead and neck. "How…how are you feeling?" Annoyed when the question came out unsure and a tad squeaky, he quickly added, "When are you going to learn to look after your own stupid ass on the battlefield, idiot?"

She laughed in an odd raspy way and answered, "I hardly had a choice; you were all busy."

Inuyasha swallowed his retort at the sound of her voice and stood. Moving as casually as he could, yet still fast enough to almost trip, he crossed the hut and scooped some water from the bucket of drinking water the priestess had provided. Gods only knew where that wench was right now. The half-demon quickly returned to Kagome's side and knelt. He slid his free hand under her head, careful to keep his claws away from her scalp, and held the iron ladle to her lips. "You humans are all so weak," he grumbled, silently wondering why she hadn't opened her eyes yet.

The water in the ladle slowly disappeared until Kagome cleared her throat and said less croakily, "Well, with a big, strong half-demon like you around to protect us, do we really have to be strong?"

Something closely akin to fear stabbed at him, and he set the ladle down with a loud _clank_, spilling the remaining drops of water on his knees. "And what if I'm _not_ around to protect you someday, stupid?"

Suddenly her eyes snapped open, and Inuyasha shrank away. Her soft gray eyes, normally so gentle and kind, were so angry, so sad, so resentful…

The room changed. Where there had been walls, there were burning huts, a darkening horizon, screaming humans running to the safety of the trees. Kagome stood before him, bleeding badly from the shoulder, screaming his name, drawing his gaze to the arrow directed straight at his heart, her eyes so hurt, so heartbreaking, flashing with a fire that put the blazing village to shame. "_Die, _Inuyasha!"

And just as suddenly, Inuyasha was back in the hut. Kagome was unhurt, lying down, no longer angry, just tired, staring at him with those strange, familiar ashen eyes as he tried to catch his breath. _Kikyo…_

Unaware of his thoughts, Kagome drowsily moved her hand to touch his. "Even if one day, you aren't with me," she whispered, "_I_ will always be with _you_."

Her melancholy smile reminded Inuyasha yet again of Kikyo, not alive yet not dead, his lover yet his enemy, protecting his life yet claiming it. He snorted, although he didn't move his hand, and replied, "Good luck keeping up with me."

In response, Kagome squeezed his index finger, obviously too tired to take his whole hand, and closed her eyes again. "Can I have some more water?" she murmured.

"There isn't any left," Inuyasha replied. "Damn priestess didn't get us enough."

"Oh…all right."

Inuyasha took her hand in his and placed it back at her side, unable to keep himself from treating it like glass. It wasn't his fault she looked so damn fragile! "I guess I'll get some more," he groaned. "The things I do for you weak humans."

"I can assure you that the weak humans are grateful," Kagome guaranteed.

"Keh. Who needs gratitude?" he grumbled, standing and tucking his hands into his sleeves. A quick twinge in his shoulders reminded him the already-healing but still gaping holes in both joints. He grabbed the bucket and made his way to the door of the hut.

Pausing, he looked back for no particular reason at all. Kagome really _did_ look weak, lying there with her pale face covered in sweat. Some strange urge to take her with him and _keep_ her with him pummeled at him somewhere in his chest before he squashed it a brisk shake of his head. "How's she going to rest if I'm carrying her around with me?" he muttered in defense against the urge's shrill protests.

Inuyasha let the curtain door fall on her almost still form and stormed away from the hut, suddenly in a very foul mood. Sango and Miroku's voices floated from the priestess's storehouse, making him unconsciously breathe a sigh of relief.

"Water…" he muttered to himself, scenting the air for the nearest fresh spring or stream.

A stone suddenly struck Inuyasha in the back. Whipping around, his hand automatically reaching for Tessaiga's hilt, he found himself facing a crowd of young boys, ranging from ages five through thirteen. Their clothes were in varying stages of disrepair, but their expressions were all the same: arrogant contempt.

The one who looked the oldest stepped forward, staring up at Inuyasha as if the half-demon were a rather large bug that needed squishing. "What do you want here, you filthy half-breed? Dirtying up our priestess's hut, poisoning the very air of our village…you shouldn't be here! Leave, and take those vassals of yours with you!"

Suppressing the urge to snarl and give his knuckles a threatening _crack_, Inuyasha simply folded his arms, letting the bucket dangle casually from one clawed hand. "What 'vassals' are you talking about, brats?"

"That impostor monk, the false demon slayer, that creepy little fox demon, and especially that strangely dressed girl! They're all traitors to the human race, bowing to an abomination!" The boy spat his words out with astonishing venom, although the only sign of Inuyasha's surprise was the scrape of one claw against the bucket's iron side.

"Trust me, kid, I am one of the _last_ people they would ever bow to. They aren't my petty little servants; they're friends, and—" Inuyasha launched himself forward and brought himself to a halt a mere inch from the brat's face. "—they are _not_ be insulted by the likes of _you_," he hissed.

The boy whimpered and staggered backward, while the others, who had been nodding and mumbling in agreement, fell silent and simultaneously took a step back. "You…" When his adolescent voice cracked, the ringleader gave himself a quick shake and rallied. "What, you dare to threaten me? I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else. After all, with that demon blood tainting your human side, what could you be but violent?"

The others laughed nervously, and one boy who looked about ten spoke up, "Don't forget stupid, Aiiro!"

This brought more laughter, more confident since Inuyasha hadn't moved. In fact, he hadn't even removed his eyes from Aiiro's face, which somewhat dampened the boy's amusement.

"Where do you learn this stuff?" he finally asked, momentarily forgetting his anger. "Your parents? Your parents are raising you like this?"

Puffed up with courage borrowed from his friends, Aiiro snapped back, "So what if they are? They're right, aren't they?"

The fury returned, and Inuyasha suddenly hooked his hand under the boy's collar and drew both him and himself up to his full height. "Listen to me, and listen well, runt! I am _tired_ of dealing with this kind of shit from people like you and your parents! You're lucky that I'm soft enough to never kill a human…but one day, you're going to insult the wrong half-demon…and he won't be so kind." That said, he let Aiiro fall, limp-legged, to the ground, and whipped himself back around, heading toward the scent of fresh water. A thrill of indignant satisfaction tickled at him when the boy sprawled backwards to avoid the swinging iron bucket.

But as he turned and disappeared behind a hut, Inuyasha could still hear the crowd of boys as they scrabbled to their leader and lifted him up, dusting him off, bad-mouthing the half-breed, threatening to tell their parents and have him thrown out…

His silver hair slapped against his cheeks as Inuyasha shook his head in disgust. Humans were even stupider than he had given them credit for, if a shock like the one he had given to those brats hadn't been enough to at least shut them up. So, so _stupid_, such bigots, such ignorance…

Suddenly, his legs itched to run, his face longed to feel the wind stinging at his eyes, his very heart yearned to be pounding from the exertion of a full-out sprint. His feet pushed harder against the ground, trying to drive him into that run that would leave everything behind, all the stupidity, all the cruelty, everything that had so tortured him his whole life falling far away, too far behind to ever catch up.

And yet, somehow, it always did. He would run away, far away, and when he stopped, there it would be, waiting for him. Judgment. Spite. Reality. For a few precious moments, he would be free, he would have forgotten, but when he stopped, he felt not only failure, but the sheer pointlessness of struggling for freedom. And yet every time, he ran again, feeling that that flash of liberty was worth the sense of utter defeat.

Unbeknownst to him, he had leaned forward, had quickened his pace, had walked straight into the woods, parallel to the stream he had been seeking. To run, to be free, one more time. To forget, to disappear into that absence of thought…

To disappear…

--

_Something closely akin to fear stabbed at him, and he set the ladle down with a loud clank, spilling the remaining drops of water on his knees. "And what if I'm not around to protect you someday, stupid?"_

_Suddenly her eyes snapped open, and Inuyasha shrank away. Her soft gray eyes, normally so gentle and kind, were so angry, so sad, so resentful…_

_The room changed. Where there had been walls, there were burning huts, a darkening horizon, screaming humans running to the safety of the trees. Kagome stood before him, bleeding badly from the shoulder, screaming his name, drawing his gaze to the arrow directed straight at his heart, her eyes so hurt, so heartbreaking, flashing with a fire that put the blazing village to shame. "_Die_, Inuyasha!"_

_And just as suddenly, Inuyasha was back in the hut. Kagome was unhurt, lying down, no longer angry, just tired, staring at him with those strange, familiar ashen eyes as he tried to catch his breath. _Kikyo_…_

_Unaware of his thoughts, Kagome drowsily moved her hand to touch his. "Even if one day, you aren't with me," she whispered, "_I_ will always be with _you_."_

_Her melancholy smile reminded Inuyasha yet again of Kikyo, not alive yet not dead, his lover yet his enemy, protecting his life yet claiming it. He snorted, although he didn't move his hand, and replied, "Good luck keeping up with me."_

--

_She'll never be able to keep up_, Inuyasha thought in frustration, forcing his will upon his disobedient legs, weighting them, slowing them, turning them until he had pushed through the undergrowth and reached the stream. _I can't run off on Kagome because she can't keep up_.

Yet wasn't it odd that he didn't resent this fact at all? Was it at all strange that when they were together, he no longer felt that itch, that urge to _escape_? What did it mean, that simply being with Kagome suddenly cut short any desire to forget? He no longer needed to flee…

…because he had already escaped.

Inuyasha fell to his knees next the stream, only alerted to that fact when the bucket, still tightly clamped in one fist, fell into the water and soaked his sleeve. Was that it? Did he no longer desire to run because Kagome had been the one he had been running _to_?

Unsure of why that thought had so weakened him with shock, the half-demon slowly filled the bucket and stood again. Back to the village. Back to those foul brats. Back to that web of suspicious, arrogant words. Back to a world of bigotry and fear.

Gritting his teeth and about to begin the return trip, Inuyasha heard not one, but many piercing shrieks that drove into his sensitive ears like knives. He flattened them with a growl and surveyed his surroundings with his nose instead. The air was suddenly thick with the scent of shock and fear. The reason soon became apparent when the scent of demon, human, and human blood came twisting from the general direction of the village, but already moving away from that throng of screaming voices.

He sighed in disgust, knowing exactly what would happen if he neglected to at least attempt to rescue this demon's victim. Kagome was indeed bedridden, but she held more power in a single word than he held in his whole body (literally), and he didn't enjoy it when she reminded of that fact.

The bucket fell to the ground, spilling its contents over the ground and turning the soil into a patch of quickly parched mud. Inuyasha pushed himself into a run, not _that_ run, but a run all the same, and felt for a blissful moment the accelerated pumping of his heart.

But the moment passed when the demon came into view. It was a hideous thing, resembling nothing more than a huge worm with a single human eye where its head should have been and a mouth like a festering wound on the belly, just under the head. To make matters worse, it had clamped its jaws (if they could be called that) around the struggling, bleeding body of a human boy.

Of all those images, only the sight of the helpless kid immediately registered. Somewhere in that part of his mind that had been specially conditioned for combat, Inuyasha noted that the demon was weak; he could have easily torn it apart with his bare claws when he was eight, let alone now.

His assessment proved to be right: a single, no-nonsense slash of the claws slit the worm-like demon into six putrid sections, freeing the child in the process. Inuyasha landed expertly, almost absentmindedly punching away a chunk of flesh that would have plastered itself across his side had there been no interference.

The boy, however, wasn't so elegant. Splattered with demon innards, he landed and bounced once on his bottom, clutching at his bleeding arm and clenching his teeth against a pained scream. Yet his eyes were proud, and he glared up at Inuyasha as he approached, and he spat, "Going to kill _me_ now, are you?"

A growl slipped past Inuyasha's lips when he recognized Aiiro, that impudent little ringleader. "If I wanted you dead, it would have taken much less energy to just let that demon get away with you. In fact, if I wanted you dead, I would have enjoyed watching that beast devour you _alive_."

The words sent a perceptible chill up Aiiro's spine, and Inuyasha felt an unexpected pang of regret. "Look, brat, I'm not going to kill you, no matter how much you and other people like you piss me off. I don't have the energy to waste on getting back at you all."

And so, Inuyasha firmly, but not roughly, reached down and hauled Aiiro to his feet. "On my back," he ordered tersely. When the boy hesitated, he snapped, "Unless you want to walk back on your own? I don't have the time to waste, runt!"

With eyes flashing indignantly, the human finally relented and awkwardly climbed onto Inuyasha's back, doing his best to keep from jostling the cut on his arm. When Inuyasha was satisfied that Aiiro was firmly in place, he set off at a more relaxed run, returning to the stream. "Th-the village is that way," Aiiro pointed out, suddenly very nervous.

"Keh, you think I don't know that? My 'filthy demon blood' is pure enough to let me smell you damn humans a mile away." He came to a stop and bent to pick up the abandoned bucket, still rocking slightly on the empty stream bank. He returned to the water and once more filled the container. "_Now_, you stupid kid, we're going back."

Aiiro hesitated, not snapping back at the bait Inuyasha had tossed in his face, and instead asked softly, "Who's the water for?"

"My friend," he answered shortly, again pushing himself into a run, now careful to hold the bucket steady, heading back toward the village. Back to the insulting crowds, the prejudiced minds, the utter stupidity of mankind. Back to the panicked villagers who would likely blame _him_ instead of the demon for Aiiro's wounds. Back to that place where acceptance was only a dream, a dream so painful that he longed to run away and forget it all. A place where all he wanted was a shelter, a haven to run to.

A haven that was likely thirsty and irritated as hell.

Back to Kagome.

_(end)_

-- -- --

_And that ends Inuyasha's chapter! This is easily the longest so far, maybe because I already had the first two pages out longhand. I dunno. Either way, not much to say here, just wanna clarify for you all that Inuyasha's brand of courage enables him to rise above what others expect, however rudely and grudgingly he may do so. Next is Kagome, the penultimate chapter!_


End file.
